Losing to find

It's kind of crazy, isn't it? We all know this stupid phrase "losing to find" or similar expressions. Nobody finds that helpful when they're actually in a state that demands exactly that from them. Come on! Throw it away! Move on, let go! Lose yourself to find yourself! Let everything be, let it die, leave it all behind.

What kind of sentences those are and how they carry so much truth and power, while at the same time, as I write them down right now, they just stress me out internally.

Losing to find. When I think back a bit—and it only takes a few years—I realize how much I let go of parts that no longer served me. This might also be a constantly changing process. After all, who is even the same person they were 5 minutes ago? We die every second, or at least parts of us do. Around me, I see crazy fires burning, I observe change and development. I see great losses, but just as much newness being discovered.

At the beginning of the year, I thought I could just explore the concept of authenticity for a bit. However, I didn't really have much of a plan for how that might affect my life. Now, something is showing up that is also reflected in this painting titled "Losing to find." Facets, layers, colors, structures bursting forth. All so different, yet creating a harmonious whole. Energy that was inside is now visible on the outside. That's exactly what I love about painting, about human expression.

The old died off and the new emerged. Just thinking about the wonderful people I got to meet and how they touched my heart—shoutout to my Primal Trust Fellows. Already familiar companions stayed, too. Granted, far fewer, and I think things filtered out quite nicely. But those who remained are the ones I always felt deeply connected to—in a light and beautiful way. It's almost as if life reorders itself with everything that is available inside. Only this time with an even more authentic selection.

So does losing to find mean, first and foremost, resorting yourself? Slapping everything from within onto the table or the canvas, rearranging it, and allowing yourself a fresh perspective on it? Can you actually look at the newly created piece neutrally? Can you interpret it? Do you even allow yourself to be a new version of yourself, or are you more concerned with whether it receives external acceptance?

If your life currently feels like it's in a fire, exposed to a tsunami, or if you find yourself facing a huge, seemingly insurmountable mountain, then don't forget: Keep your feet firmly on the ground. You are not alone.

It is completely clear to me that I had to, have to, and will have to lose a lot to find life over and over again. Many plans and even more wishes will change, rivers will flow into different seas than shown on the map, and everything around you will spin like on a carousel. 

What remains is you as a human being—ideally in your own center. Because that way, you remain unimpressed by the rapid shifts, by the dynamics of the rotational force of this world.

Thank you so much for reading!

These posts are part of my artistic journey, sharing the stories behind the canvas.

If this glimpse into my work inspired you and you'd like to join me a little further on my path, you can support my studio work with a small contribution toward new paints or a creative coffee break. Just click the green link below.

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